


You're in My Veins

by ladyannabethstark



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Language, War Of The Five Kings, asoiaf au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:08:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyannabethstark/pseuds/ladyannabethstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy was used to female warriors. Clarke happens to be even more than he could have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're in My Veins

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came from a prompt on tumblr. Depending on the interest that it gets, I might be expanding it into a series.
> 
> Title is from In My Veins by Andrew Belle.

Bellamy was used to female warriors. His own sister, Octavia, could beat most men with a sword in her hand. Dacey Mormont was not to be trifled with by anyone, including the high lords. Raven had a quickness to her that put men on the ground before they could take a breath. When Lord Stark called all Northern banners to him, it came as no surprise to see women mingling with the men in the camp. It was one particular woman that caught his eye, a small blonde in woolen breeches. She was often covered in blood, going back and forth between her own tent and the tents that housed the injured and dying. 

Once, on the battlefield after a particular brutal fight, he saw her cut off a man’s leg without hesitation, sympathy flitting across her delicate face when he screamed for mercy. He didn’t even know that she fought until he saw her releasing arrow after arrow into Lannister men the day that they took back Riverrun. Bellamy only took an occasional notice of her, unwilling to admit that he felt any amount of pleasure at seeing her alive each day. Octavia wasn’t fooled, catching sight of his interested glances with a knowing look. It wasn’t until his sister found him cleaning up in his tent with a basin of water that he even knew the young woman’s name.

“Bellamy, it’s Clarke,” Octavia said hurriedly, breathing heavily.

“Clarke?” he said, his brow furrowing with confusion.

His sister huffed, grabbing at his wrist to drag him out.

“The blonde healer with terrifying bow and arrow skills that you can’t stop staring at,” she informed him impatiently.

That got him interested, his pace quickening as they hurried across the camp. They arrived at the crowded area at the edge of the woods just in time to see the blonde, Clarke, throw the sharp curve of her elbow into the throat of a man. She kicked him between his legs as he gasped for air, sending him tumbling to the ground. It was then that Bellamy noticed that her tunic was ripped at the shoulder and her breeches were undone in the front. Dax, her attacker, began crawling away, pressing his hand to a bleeding wound on his shoulder.

“He tried to rape her when she was gathering herbs in the woods, I think. He didn’t count on the knife in her boot,” Octavia said, a vicious smile on her face.

Bellamy couldn’t help but feel like the man got what he deserved. It was one of the soldiers who fought with him in the vanguard. He’d drunk and feasted with this man. Now he felt nothing but disgust. A few guards came forward, dragging Dax away towards the castle to be judged by the Warden of the North. Octavia hurried forward, brushing Clarke’s hair away from her face to reveal a cut on her lip and a wild fury in her striking blue eyes. He’d never seen her look more beautiful. That night, they were gathered in one of the taverns, drinking and feasting happily. It was amazing what winning a war could do for the morale of the soldiers that fought for a cause that was not their own. Bellamy was drinking in a corner, his eyes scanning the crowd and resting on his sister to make sure that she was all right.

Octavia was in her element, telling one particularly large and imposing soldier a story with her hands waving in the air. Despite his intimidating demeanor, the warrior, Lincoln might have been his name, was looking at Bellamy’s sister with a look of awe in his eyes. She was safe over there. When a flash of golden locks caught his eye, he turned his head to see Clarke sinking onto a bench beside a few soldiers, greeting them with a nod as they inquired after her. Gathering two cups of ale in his hand, Bellamy crossed the room without a second thought. One look sent Jasper and Monty scurrying away, much to the blonde’s surprise. He sat down on the bench beside her, his legs straddling the wood. Her eyes met his as he slid the drink across the table to sit in front of her.

“What’s this for?” she asked, her voice huskier than he expected.

Bellamy couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips.

“Giving Dax the beating he so sorely deserved,” he said, raising his cup to her before drinking from it.

Clarke flushed slightly in the dim firelight of the tavern before lifting the cup to her lips, sipping at the ale.

“He deserves worse than the Wall,” she said darkly.

“Maybe we can catch him before they take him away. I’ll hold him down, you can cut his cock off,” Bellamy offered.

She looked at him with wide eyes before a startled giggle escaped from her lips.

“You have no shame, do you?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy simply grinned at her, glancing around the tavern.

“So what are you doing here?” he asked.

Her face grew serious again and she looked down at her cup, swirling the brown liquid around. Bellamy was in the middle of wondering if he should take back the question when she spoke quietly.

"My father, Jacob Griffin, stood with Lord Stark in King's Landing after King Robert died. Now his head is decorating the walls of the Red Keep," she said.

He didn't know what to say. He knew from experience that there was nothing to be said. His father died in Robert's Rebellion and his mother perished of childbed fever only months later, leaving Bellamy and Octavia on their own.

"I want justice for my family," Clarke said, looking up at him.

Bellamy saw the same fury in her eyes as before and couldn't help but stare. Then he backtracked, realizing what she'd said as his face fell.

"Griffin? You're a lord's daughter?"

"Was," she corrected him.

"Yeah, but you're a lady. You lived in a castle and...look all that about cocks, I never should have..."

Clarke's hand covered his mouth, effectively quieting him.

"I am not a lady. I'm a soldier and a healer. Do not call me a lady," she said in a soft yet dangerous voice, glancing around to see if anyone heard him.

Removing her hand, she gave him a warning look.

"As my lady commands," Bellamy said, a grin spreading across his face.

A well placed punch to his arm had him grunting, wondering how someone so small could hit him like that.

"That wasn't ladylike," he said, trying his best to sound disappointing.

Clarke stared at him with frustration as he laughed. It only took a few moments for her to join in, shaking her head.

"You never told me your name," she said once they recovered, both drinking from their cups.

"Bellamy," he answered, waving over a bar wench when he noticed that he drank all of his ale.

"Octavia's brother," Clarke realized, looking at him knowingly.

He nodded in response, wondering how he didn't know that his sister and this beautiful blonde were friends.

"Well, I should be getting back to my tent. Have a round on me."

Clarke placed a silver stag on the table in front of him before standing up.

"I should come with you," he said quickly, stopping her with a hand around her wrist.

She looked down at him with raised eyebrows.

"Just in case anyone else gets any ideas," Bellamy recovered, gesturing to the cut on her lip.

She smiled and bent down, her hair brushing his face as her mouth went to his heart.

"I have four weapons on me, Bellamy. I dare anyone to try," Clarke whispered before straightening up to walk out.

He watched her go, his eyes tracking her all the way to the door. Someone slipped into the seat next to him, but he hardly noticed.

"Seven hells. That is a woman," the man said appreciatively, watching her leave as well.

Bellamy didn't hesitate before slamming the drunkard's head onto the table, breaking his nose. Then he stood up as the tavern quieted and everyone stared at him.

"To the King in the North!" he shouted, raising his cup.

Everyone echoed joyfully and he slipped out of the tavern to go to his own tent. As he readied himself for sleep, his thoughts were filled with bright blue eyes and soft pink lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


End file.
